Siren
by Cora Clavia
Summary: She's prepared to wait. As long as it takes. He waited three months and still took her back. She owes him at least that much.  Post 47 Seconds.
1. Siren

So…this is absolutely not what is going to happen. But what is fanfiction if not a place to abandon all pretense of reality? I'm sorry. I just got a little riled up about the last "Next week on Castle" promo and this is my gut reaction. So, um, spoilers for 47 Seconds and the promo for The Limey.

* * *

><p>Now the Sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence.<br>And though admittedly such a thing never happened,  
>it is still conceivable that someone might possibly have escaped from their singing;<br>but from their silence, certainly never.

Franz Kafka

* * *

><p>"Alexis, can you grab those charts and take them out there? I need to get some printouts. I'll be out there in a sec."<p>

"Yes, Dr. Parrish." Alexis picks up her clipboard, wipes a strand of hair behind her ear, and walks out into the morgue. Where she runs into a distracted-looking Kate Beckett.

"Detective." Alexis curls her fingers around her clipboard. But Lanie sent her in here to wait. So she's stuck here with Kate Beckett, who is _so_ not her favorite person right now.

"Oh – Alexis." The detective looks uncomfortable, her eyes flicking away like she wants to leave.

Beckett checks her phone, purses her lips at something, and tucks the phone back into her pocket. Alexis grits her teeth. She has nothing to say. So she lets the dead silence stretch on, until finally the older woman looks positively awkward and clears her throat. "Um – is there something you need?"

Her dad's face flashes in her mind – that sad look, the strained smile he's been showing since this woman dropped his heart on the ground and crushed it under her heavy black heels – and Alexis suddenly has this terrible anger, this overwhelming need to protect the man who just wants to love and cherish and give. Dad isn't a perfect man. But he's _good_. And he doesn't deserve this.

(And ever since she overheard him and Gram talking in hushed tones a few days ago, figured out why he's turning into a jerk, she's been so quietly angry at this woman she can't handle it.)

"You need to tell my dad the truth."

Oh.

She didn't mean to actually say it out loud.

Well, it gets her attention. Beckett looks up, startled. "I'm sorry?"

Alexis takes a deep breath. But now that she's started, it comes spilling out. "I want you to apologize to him. Because you know exactly what he said, and you know how he feels, and you _lied_. Now he's a mess. He's an idiot. He's dating that worthless tramp just because she's _not you_. And even though you're treating him like a toy, he's still following you around because he's good. Because he _cares_. And your job is dangerous. What happens when he gets hurt because you can't just tell him the truth?"

Alexis sucks in a long breath. _Oh – oh, did I just – _She isn't used to upbraiding people. Certainly not people like Kate Beckett.

But Detective Beckett doesn't look angry. Not at all. In fact – Alexis blinks – if anything, she looks – freaked? Seriously, seriously scared. Her face is frozen and her eyes are wide.

"What did you say?" Alexis isn't sure which part she's referring to. But the detective swallows and continues. "You said I lied."

"When you got shot." Alexis forces herself past that day, the memory of the screaming and the blood and the terror. "You know what he said. You lied."

Beckett stares at her, face getting paler. "How did you – "

"I heard Dad talking to Gram. She hates the woman he's seeing. And he said he was just doing what she told him. Getting over you. Because you don't care about him."

As she says it, Alexis watches, amazed. Beckett crumples. Her face falls. She actually takes a step back, bumping into the instrument table, and she slumps against it, covering her mouth with one hand. "Oh, God. No."

"What?" Her irritation is fading a little, because she's not sure what she was expecting – defiance? apathy? – but Beckett looks crushed. Utterly crushed.

"He doesn't – he doesn't understand – " The detective shakes her head. "I didn't mean it like that."

Alexis frowns. "But – he said – "

"What did he say? Exactly?"

"Gram was saying something about him dating some worthless Barbie doll, and he said he was just doing what she told him. She said the way to get over you wasn't just to hook up with the polar opposite of Beckett. And he just said that if you'd rather be honest with a murder suspect than tell him the truth, he could do whatever he wanted because apparently there was never anything there in the first place."

"And that's what he thinks. He thinks I don't care about him."

Beckett's face goes blank. Alexis is getting uncomfortable. Because – apparently Dad's wrong. He must be. Because there is no way, no possible way, a woman who doesn't care about him could be so wholly crushed by what she's just heard. Could she?

"Here you go, hon- Kate? You okay?"

They both turn, startled, to find Lanie watching them warily, obviously seeing the haunted look on Beckett's face.

The detective recovers fastest, taking a deep breath, straightening. "Fine, Lanie. Fine. Thanks." She takes the toxicology printouts and glances over them quickly. "These look good." She turns as if to go, but then bites her lip and looks back, one hand on the door. "Alexis? Thanks. I – just – thank you for telling me."

"Sure."

Alexis can only watch, confused, as Beckett leaves.


	2. Song

the song nobody knows  
>because anyone who had heard it<br>is dead, and others can't remember.  
>Shall I tell you the secret<br>and if I do, will you get me out of this bird suit?

_Siren Song_, Margaret Atwood

* * *

><p>Kate's in a blur the rest of the day. A horrible, guilt-stricken blur. She does her job but her heart's not in it. It's the third time since the bombing case that Castle's taken a lunch break without her and simply not come back that afternoon. Now she understands why.<p>

_He thinks I don't care about him_.

It's bad enough that she's been hiding it. But the way he found out, hearing her say it so matter-of-factly to a suspect, must have destroyed him. Like he wasn't worth her time. Like she didn't have a spare second to tell him oh, by the way, about what you said –

(Does he even still love her? Could he still love her at all after this?)

Her heart twists painfully in her chest, the ghostly ache under the faint pucker of her scar is a sick, vicious reminder of how this all started.

And now he has one. He has a hole in his heart.

(_I put it there_.)

* * *

><p>By the time evening rolls around and she goes home, she's a mess, a carefully pent-up mess of fear and guilt and shame. Terrible, rolling waves of shame. Alexis' words are on an endless loop in her mind. They won't stop.<p>

She numbly looks through her refrigerator for dinner, but the collection of styrofoam and tupperware on the shelves puts an aching lump in her throat and she shuts the door. She's not hungry.

Every woman he's ever trusted has let him down. Kyra. Meredith. Gina. Sophia. And now Kate.

_Why didn't I realize it would end like this?_

It was stupid to think she could hide it forever. Castle's a patient man. But how far has she pushed him?

Her future unrolls before her unwilling mind. A long canvas, unfurling in grey and black and watching him walk away, seeing him vanish, reading about his affairs with every model who crosses his path, hearing secondhand details about his wedding to yet another woman who bats her eyelashes and coos over his fortune. Her future without him. Because that's where this is going.

She's lost him.

_I ruined this. I ruined everything_.

She can't hold it in anymore and she leans over her kitchen counter and cries, horrible choking sobs that hurt her chest and strain her lungs and burn her eyes and shred her heart. Because she loves him. She loves him so much it scares her. She loves him so much she wants it all. She wants the whole story, the whole fairytale.

More than anything, Kate wishes she were _normal_. Wishes so very badly that she didn't have to drag death and sorrow and suffering into every relationship she has.

She leans on her wrists, takes a deep, shaky breath. Forces herself to think. Right now he's – he's angry. Justifiably so. _I can't blame him. He has a right to hate me_. Hate her. _Hate_ –

She grits her teeth. No. Think. _Think, Kate_.

He's not happy right now. He's avoiding her. He's disappearing. All the slow steps forward, all the tiny victories she's won over her own insecurities, are gone. All their progress. All the soft looks. The touches. The gentle flirting. It's all _over_.

On the other hand, it simplifies her course of action, doesn't it?

Because this can't get worse. This is the worst-case scenario.

Now she has no choice.

There's no way but forward.


	3. Undine

When she had breathed her song, she begged me -  
>begged me – to put her ring on my finger;<br>to be her husband and sink with her down -  
>down to her drowned palace<br>and be king of all the lakes.

_Ondine_, Aloysius Bertrand

* * *

><p>Alexis gets home to find Dad in his study, not out on the town with this week's version of Not Kate. She's relieved. It's been a long time since Dad's been so hard to deal with. And she used to think he was enjoying himself, enjoying the high life, being surrounded by beautiful people, but now she's old enough to really see it. To see the hollow look in his eyes. The tiredness he tries so desperately to keep from his face. He's miserable.<p>

She darts up to her room and sits for a minute. She needs to tell him – well, what? To tell him Beckett knows what happened? – that she looked like a ghost and reacted like someone had told her he'd just been shot? – that maybe he was wrong, maybe there's hope?

_What do I tell him?_

Her phone rings, ending her brief moment of confusion. It's Beckett, in fact. She lets out a breath. "Hello?"

"Hi, Alexis. Are you at home?"

"Yeah."

"Is your dad there?"

"Yeah." Alexis drags her fingers slowly over her comforter, at a loss for what else to do. "Do you want me to get him?"

"No. No, don't tell him anything. I need to do it myself. And he's not going to –" the older woman takes a shaky breath – "he's been avoiding me. I don't want to give him a chance to leave, okay? I'll be there soon."

* * *

><p>Kate arrives at the loft to find Alexis waiting for her. "I'm glad you came," the girl says softly.<p>

Kate takes a deep breath. She's a mess right now, eyes red, hair untidy. But Alexis let her in. She's here. It's a start. "He's still here?"

Alexis nods at his office door. It's closed. But he's in there. Kate cranes her neck – sure enough, through the open bookshelves, she can see the back of his head. He's in his chair, facing away from her. It doesn't look like he's moving.

_Did he hear us? Does he know I'm here?_

"Alexis, I don't know what to tell him." Her throat closes up in panic. She hasn't thought this through. She doesn't have a real plan. She doesn't know how to do this. She doesn't know what's going to happen –

The girl hesitates for a second, but reaches her arms around Kate's waist to hug her.

"Tell him everything."

* * *

><p>Kate stands in front of the door to his study and has no idea how to start.<p>

She touches the doorknob, but then falters. She can't. She's hurt him too much already. She has no right to break this wall. This is his door. He has to open it.

"Castle?" Nothing. "Castle. I know you can hear me."

All she hears is silence.

(Exactly what she gave him.)

She shuts her eyes, rests her hands on the door like she's feeling for a pulse, a hidden compartment, some invisible latch that will spring open and give her entry to his room. To his world.

"I know what you heard me tell Bobby. I know what you think it means." She curls her fingers into fists and chokes a little on the next words. "You know I lied to you. I remember what happened in the cemetery. I remember what you said."

It takes her a few seconds to collect herself. She slumps back against the doorframe and folds her arms.

"Castle, I'm sorry for a lot of things." Such an understatement. "I'm sorry I lied to you. It was horribly selfish of me. I was scared and I made the wrong choice. And you paid the price for it."

It's like a lead weight has vanished from her chest. At least he knows the truth now. "I'm so sorry for abandoning you last summer. I should have called you. I should have at least called. You loved me and I walked away and it was wrong."

She remembers that moment, that last breath before everything went black. It's hazy, but she remembers. She never forgot. "That was the last thing I remembered before I blacked out, Castle. Everything was getting blurry. You were all I could see. You were the last thing I knew."

She can't deal with this right now. The pain in her chest is creeping back.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to wait till then to say it in the first place. You were right about me. I was hiding in meaningless relationships. And I was angry at you because I couldn't admit it to myself. You were right. You were always right."

She shuts her eyes, rests her forehead on the door. Not much else to say. She has nothing to lose at this point. "I love you. I love you and I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. And – I've treated you so badly. I don't deserve you. Your heart is so big. And – and I know I'm broken, Castle. You have every right to push me away. Everyone close to me gets hurt." She swallows hard around the lump in her throat. "But I love you. I love you with everything I have to give. And I should have been honest with you."

She hasn't heard anything from behind the door. Not a movement, breath, cough, anything. But she knows he's there. He heard everything.

Now it's up to him.

She takes a last long breath, runs her hands through her messy hair. She has no more.

(_I forgave him once for hurting me._)

It seems like such a pale thing in comparison now.

"I'm not walking away, Castle. I made that mistake once. You deserve better than that." Her eyes start to sting and she forces out the next words. "You're worth waiting for."


	4. Saved

Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and falling with the roiling waves,  
>till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was fast losing the power of swimming in that<br>stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died  
>had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water<br>and let the waves drift them where they would.

Hans Christian Andersen, _The Little Mermaid_

* * *

><p>Kate takes a deep breath and flattens her palms against the doorframe. She's prepared to wait. As long as it takes. He waited three months and still took her back. She owes him at least that much.<p>

(She should have known immediately. Should have realized what happened the moment he walked into the precinct and looked through her instead of at her.)

It feels like an eternity – it's only a minute, really – before she hears a creak, feels the floorboards shift, and then (her heart pounds) footsteps. There's a second of silence. And then the door opens.

She looks up at him, her chest twisted in knots, and all her words disappear. He looks tortured. His face lined with exhaustion. And his eyes – Kate swallows. His eyes are dark, intense, burning. He's being careful.

(But he opened the door. He listened to her words and he opened the door.)

He watches her for a long moment before he speaks. "Why did you come here, Kate?"

(_Kate_.)

Her lungs start to work again.

"Because I love you." The words slip out now, but they're still new enough that they make her mouth shiver deliciously, her tongue buzzing like she's licked a battery. "And I should have told you a long time ago. I'm sorry."

His whole posture changes. His shoulders smooth, his hand on the doorframe unclenching. "Say it again."

"I'm sorry."

"Not that."

She lets out a breath. "I love you." His shoulders slump, all the air rushes out of him, and she can't stop saying it, seeing the pain draining from his face. "I love you, Castle, I l-"

He swallows her words in a kiss that's more desperate than tender, more direct than soft. His hands come to her face and she melts against him. He's strong and warm and possessive and sure and he _loves her_.

And now she lets him.

When he lets her go she's embarrassed to feel her eyes stinging, her cheeks wet. He wipes away the tears that escaped, pressing his forehead to hers. "You know I love you. You know what I want."

"I don't think I could ever be more sure, Castle."

(She's already fairly sure he's the one. For all of forever.)

Kate stretches on her toes and kisses him again, pulls him against the lines of her body, breathes his air. He presses her back against the frame of the doorway and she arches against him. His hands slide over her waist, trace her back, tangle in her hair, sending tingles dancing through her skin.

He takes her hands and pulls her with him into his bedroom, brings her inside, and shuts the door behind them.

END.


End file.
